Betty, the chimpanzee that had been at the Dublin Zoo for the longest and the oldest living chimp under human care, passed away last week at the age of 62. She was one of the zoo’s most cherished and well-known inmates.
A zoo blog article claims that Betty had age-related ailments that were impairing her quality of life, and the tough choice to end her life was made to spare her from suffering in the future.
Although it is heartbreaking to lose Betty, she enjoyed a lengthy life that exceeded the average lifespan of a chimpanzee in captivity. According to the zoo, she was also the oldest chimpanzee in human care at the time of her death.
Team leader Helen Clarke Bennett of Dublin Zoo, who has worked as a zookeeper since 1987 and has known Betty for many years, paid tribute to her.
In 1964, a West African chimpanzee named Betty made her way to Dublin. Bennett notes that Betty participated in archaic practices like “Chimp Tea Parties” and that the Dublin Zoo continued to operate in the “style of the early Victorian era zoos” throughout that period.
Betty saw major advancements in zoo standards throughout her decades-long confinement. For example, in the 1990s, the chimp habitat was transformed from a metal-barred concrete “pit” to an island with trees.
Bennett claimed to have known Betty since the zoo’s early years since Michael Clarke, Betty’s father, was looking after her at the time. The chimp was “always strong-minded,” according to him, and would not give up on her goals.
After Wendy moved in 1964, Betty’s best friend, Wendy, became an integral part of her life for the majority of it. One of the cutest pairs in the zoo was formed by the two monkeys.
“Wendy had a cheeky side, but Betty could hold her accountable!” Bennett penned the piece. “When Wendy was obstinately refusing to go outside while the habitat was being cleaned, Betty putting her arm around her to encourage her to go outside with the rest of the troop will always be one of my favorite pictures.”
Betty and Wendy celebrated their 50th birthdays together in 2012 at the zoo. The zoo workers believed that Betty, who was devastated by Wendy’s death in 2014, wouldn’t be far behind.
She even managed to live on for a further ten years, rising to the rank of dominating female chimpanzee and earning the title of longest-serving inhabitant of the zoo.
Bennett stated that Betty experienced reduced kidney function and chronic arthritis in her latter years, which affected her weight and mobility. She was also under continuous wellness management.
They had to make the tough but humane decision to end the beloved chimp’s life after all medicinal and surgical alternatives had been tried. Even though Betty is no longer with us, she will always be cherished as a unique original and a zoogoer’s favorite for many decades to come.
“Although I am really saddened to bid farewell to a friend I have known since I was a young child, I am sure that Betty’s euthanasia was the right choice, ensuring that she didn’t suffer needlessly and preserving her dignity to the very end. That gives me a great deal of comfort,” Bennett wrote.
“Everyone here at Dublin Zoo as well as the many generations of visitors who were fortunate enough to know her will miss Betty terribly; there will never be another like her.”
Peace be with you, Betty. You lived a very long life, and it’s obvious that your loved ones and caregivers cherished you.
My MIL decorated a Christmas tree at 70 — just pathetic!
The sight that greeted me as I walked into my mother-in-law’s living room nearly made me choke on my own breath. Towering over the pristine white carpet stood a magnificent Christmas tree, its branches laden with twinkling lights and a dazzling array of ornaments.
“Merry Christmas!” my mother-in-law chirped, her face beaming with an almost childlike glee.
I managed a weak smile, my inner monologue a raging torrent of disbelief. “Oh, it’s… it’s lovely,” I muttered, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Very festive.”
She beamed. “I spent all afternoon decorating it. It reminds me of my childhood, decorating the tree with my mother before she passed away.”
“Oh,” I said, my voice flat. “Sentimental, I suppose.”
“It brings me joy,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “It’s a beautiful tradition.”
Joy? At her age? At 70 years old, shouldn’t she be focusing on more important things? Like, I don’t know, spending time with her grandkids? Enjoying her golden years? Instead, she was wasting her time and money on a childish frivolity.
“It must have cost a fortune,” I remarked, my voice laced with disdain. “All those ornaments, the lights… You could have bought something useful for the kids with that money.”
Her smile faltered. “They have everything they need.”
“They could always use more,” I countered, my voice hardening. “College funds, maybe? Or maybe you could help us with the mortgage.”
My mother-in-law’s face, once radiant with joy, now wore a look of hurt. “I… I thought you’d be happy for me,” she stammered.
“Happy?” I scoffed. “Why would I be happy? You’re wasting your time and money on something that’s completely frivolous at your age.”
The rest of the visit was awkward. My mother-in-law, her eyes filled with disappointment, retreated to the corner of the room, her joy extinguished by my callous words. My husband, sensing the tension, tried to mediate, but I was too caught up in my own indignation to listen.
As we drove away, I felt a strange sense of unease creeping over me. My words, sharp and cruel, echoed in my ears. I had hurt her, deeply. And for what? For a Christmas tree?
That night, I couldn’t sleep. The image of my mother-in-law, sitting alone in the living room, her eyes filled with sadness, haunted me. I realized that my own materialistic values had blinded me to the true meaning of joy, the importance of cherished memories, and the simple pleasures of life.
The next day, I returned to my mother-in-law’s house, a bouquet of flowers in hand. I apologized for my insensitive remarks. I explained that I was wrong, that her happiness was more important than any material possession.
To my surprise, she accepted my apology with grace. “It’s alright, dear,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I understand. But you know, decorating this tree brought me more joy than anything else could have.”
As I watched her gaze lovingly at the sparkling tree, I finally understood. True happiness wasn’t about accumulating wealth or striving for material possessions. It was about finding joy in the simple things, about cherishing memories, and about embracing the magic of the holiday season.
That Christmas, I helped my mother-in-law decorate the tree. And as I watched her face light up with joy, I realized that I had learned a valuable lesson. Sometimes, the most precious gifts are the ones that can’t be bought, the ones that come from the heart. The sight that greeted me upon entering my mother-in-law’s living room nearly made me choke on my own breath. Standing tall in the corner, a veritable beacon of misplaced enthusiasm, was a towering Christmas tree, dripping with ornaments and twinkling lights.
“Merry Christmas!” she chirped, her voice a little too high-pitched, a little too…childlike.
I managed a weak smile. “Merry Christmas, Mom,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm I couldn’t quite control. “That’s… quite the tree.”
She beamed, “Isn’t it lovely? Took me all morning. I even found some of my old ornaments from when I was a child.”
“Oh, that’s… nice,” I mumbled, my eyes rolling involuntarily.
“It reminds me of my mother,” she continued, her voice softening. “We used to decorate the tree together every year. She would tell me stories about Christmases past, about her childhood.”
My jaw tightened. “Well, that’s… sweet,” I said through gritted teeth. “But don’t you think you’re a bit old for this? You should be focusing on spending time with your grandchildren, enjoying your retirement.”
My mother-in-law’s smile faltered. “I enjoy this,” she said quietly. “It brings me joy.”
“Joy?” I scoffed. “At your age? You should be focusing on more important things, like, I don’t know, your health, your finances.”
Her eyes, once sparkling with delight, now held a hint of hurt. “I’m perfectly healthy,” she retorted, her voice rising. “And I don’t need your lectures on how to spend my money. I worked hard for it, and I’ll spend it however I choose.”
The argument escalated from there. I accused her of being childish, of wasting her time and money on frivolous pursuits. She countered with accusations of being selfish and materialistic, of not understanding the importance of family traditions.
As I stormed out, the image of the glittering Christmas tree, a symbol of her joy and her past, haunted me. I had been so focused on my own needs, on my own desires, that I had failed to see the simple joy that this seemingly insignificant act brought to my mother-in-law.
That night, as I lay awake, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt. Had I been too harsh? Was it really so wrong for her to cling to a cherished childhood memory?
The next morning, I returned to my mother-in-law’s house, a bouquet of flowers in hand. “I apologize for my behavior yesterday,” I said sincerely. “I was wrong. The tree is beautiful, and I can see how much it means to you.”
A surprised smile spread across her face. “Thank you, dear,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “It means a lot to me that you understand.”
As I helped her decorate cookies with my children, I realized that true happiness wasn’t about accumulating wealth or striving for material possessions. It was about finding joy in the simple things, about cherishing memories, and about appreciating the beauty of the present moment.
And as I watched my children’s eyes light up at the sight of the glittering Christmas tree, I knew that my mother-in-law, in her own way, had given them a gift far more precious than any material possession: the gift of a cherished memory, a reminder of the magic of the holiday season, and the enduring power of family traditions.
From that day on, I looked at the Christmas tree with a newfound appreciation. It was no longer a symbol of childishness or a waste of money; it was a testament to the enduring power of joy, a reminder to cherish the simple pleasures, and a beautiful reflection of the woman who had given me the greatest gift of all – the love of my children.
Leave a Reply